


A Secret Vow

by sarcastic_fi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Harry, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Neglect, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James is alive, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Top Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fi/pseuds/sarcastic_fi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter is the Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry is his nonentity son. James has turned to alcohol in the past allowing Harry to bring himself up. It's only when Sirius and Remus intervene that Harry finds out about the betrothal.<br/>This story starts with Harry aged nine - nothing sexual happens until much much much later (promise!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title may change  
> Characters will be added  
> Warnings may be added when appropriate or at the very least trigger warnings will be in each chapter notes.  
> See end of chapter notes for warnings for this chapter.

~ October 1989 ~

Remus Lupin, along with one of his closest friends Sirius Black, apparated into Godric's Hollow late on an Autumn night. The village, picturesque and secluded, was the home of one of their oldest friends and the hero of the Wizarding World; James Potter. It was James who they had made the journey to visit. Sirius, as ever, was practically shaking with emotions, the excitement and anticipation vibrating under his skin. They had all been best friend since they were eleven years old sharing a dorm room in Griffindor tower along with Peter Pettigrew, may he rest in peace, however Sirius had always felt more strongly about James than the rest of them. It was more than just a friendship to Sirius but James' obvious attraction and later marriage to Lily Evans had kept him silent about his feelings. Even now, eight years after Lily's death, Sirius would never hint at his feelings. Not that James was capable of picking up on hints these days. A bottle of Beetle Berry Whiskey a day would numb even the most perceptive minds to the most heavy handed of hints. For himself, Lupin could only think on these visits as an obligation, something he did out of love for the person James had once been, and from loyalty to Lily's memory.

“Now remember, Sirius, we're hear to make sure that James had prepared Harry for entering into Wizarding society. This is not a social visit, and there will be no drinking or reminiscing.” 

“Just because we have a purpose doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves,” Sirius countered.

Lupin sighed. He knew bringing Sirius along had been a mistake but since Lupin was currently residing in Sirius's home, a semi-permanent arrangement made due to Lupin's own inability to hold down a job thanks to the lycanthropy curse, he could hardly leave without Sirius noticing and asking. Once Lupin, who made it a promise to himself not to lie to his friends, admitted where he was going it had been impossible to prevent Sirius from following. “I've said my piece, let us just get through this ordeal and we can go back to pretending that everything is fine and dandy, shall we?” Sirius shot him a confused look but made no comment. 

The cottage that the Potters called home was a large stone building with thatched roofing and an expansive lawn at the rear of the property. It was set far away from the village, a deliberate choice of James' as the fame that accompanied his defeat of the Dark Lord was neither sought after nor welcomed. Lupin noted that it had allowed James to retreat into his own shell and ignore the outside world and while it had benefited James' desire for privacy, his son Harry had suffered.

Harry Potter, Sirius's godson, was nine years old and Lupin believed he would be as powerful, if not more, than his father had been in his prime. He lived with James and their House Elf Dobby with almost no other human contact. Lupin tried his best to drop by as much as he could but he didn't want to step on James toes or tell his friend how to raise his son even if he did believe he was doing it all wrong. If anyone asked Sirius he would surely insist that if only he was able to he would spend all his time with James, and the saddest thing was Sirius would believe the lie himself. The fact was Sirius, who thanks to the Black family fortune, already had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes and with no career to speak of he could easily spend all his time at his friend's home. The fact that he did not was purely because deep down, beneath all the denial and fantasies and childhood memories, Sirius knew that James' existence was miserable, and that he was not the hero that the world wanted him to be. Merely a man who missed his wife so much he couldn't bare to stay sober enough to remember his son's name let alone that he needed a father.

Lupin knocked. They waited. Seconds ticked away to minutes and it took several more knocks and finally a shout to get someone to answer the door. To their surprise it wasn't Dobby who let them in, but a young boy with round spectacles that dominated his face and unruly black hair that had been arranged to hide the lightning shaped scar on his forehead that identified him as Voldemort's last intended victim.

“Uncle Sirius! Uncle Remus!” Harry launched himself into their arms. Sirius bent down and embraced his godson eagerly. Lupin, who had always been more reserved in his affections, ruffled the boy's hair before he stepped into the poorly lit cottage.

“Where is your father, Harry?” Lupin asked as Sirius disentangled himself from the boy and joined them inside. The door swung shut of its own accord, a magical enchantment most likely. Harry's smile dimmed at the question and he deliberately looked every where except the narrow staircase which lead to the second and third floors of the cottage. This told Lupin everything he wanted, and did not want, to know.

It had been only a few years ago that Lupin had arrived to find Harry sobbing at the bottom of the upper staircase that lead directly to James' room. Lupin managed to discovered, via use of crude legilimency, that Harry had spent the previous three days attempting to get his dad's attention by hook or crook, feigning injury and begging for James to come out. Nothing had motivated the man to come to his son's aid. Harry had given up on his dad that year, and so had Lupin. Sirius, who had only heard Lupin's account of the incident, brushed the whole thing off as two parts Lupin being a worry wart and one part an understandable reaction as it had been the anniversary of Lily's death. Lupin was only here now because there were duties that it would be remiss of Lupin to allow James to forget. 

“Here,” Lupin handed Harry a bag of groceries and Harry accepted it eagerly. While Dobby tended to the necessities of the house Lupin knew that Harry had few or no luxuries in life, whenever he popped by he made sure to bring something to cheer up the boy.

Harry's eyes lit up with expected glee. “Is there any chocolate, Uncle Remus?” 

“Oh, I suspect I may have slipped a few bits and bobs in there.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you.” He took his treasure and slipped away into the den, his favourite room of the house as it held most of the photographs of his mother. This had the added bonus of allowing Remus and Sirius to venture upstairs without hurting Harry's feelings further. Sirius eagerly took the narrow crooked stairs two at a time while Lupin followed behind him cautiously. He never looked forward to seeing James any more, not since finding Harry crying. It hurt too much to see his friend fall so far.

“James!” Sirius called out enthusiastically, pushing the door open without resistance. James had either been too drunk to cast a repelling spell on the door or he knew that Harry wouldn't try again and no longer bothered to ensure his privacy via use of magic.

“G'way.” Mumbled a hoarse voice.

The room that Lupin entered was dark and damp. The air was warmer than it should have been and the windows misted up with condensation causing mould to grow in the corners and around the woodwork. An enchantment stopped anyone from being able to peer through the glass while James was still able to glare out at the world whenever he wished. The sheets adorning the large unmade bed were stained with what Lupin could only presume was vomit, ash and alcohol. It was obvious that Dobby had long since abandoned his Master as well.

James himself looked such a wreck that even Sirius couldn't hide his dismay. The man was only in his early thirties but appeared far older with a grey tinge to his saggy unwashed skin and an unattractive beard clinging to his sharp chin and gaunt cheeks. His clothing was rumpled and smelly. He was unable to even lift his head in annoyance at the arrival of his friends and it hung to the side at what was probably a painful angle. Lupin had no way of telling of course but he guessed that James had been sat in that chair for some time. Getting out of it would most likely be extremely uncomfortable.

“It's Remus and Sirius, James. We've come to see how you are,” Sirius spoke in a deliberately upbeat voice.

“... 'm fine,” James slurred. “Ti'ed.”

“Of course. We just need to talk to you about Harry.”

“Wha' abo' 'arry?”

“James, you might not recall but some time ago you decided that when Harry was nine you would tell him the truth about his future. Well, Harry turned nine in the summer, James, and it's past time you informed him out the facts that will soon shape the rest of his life,” Lupin said.

“H... e's ot nine... his a baby.”

“James, I assure you your son turned nine some time ago.”

“Son?”

“Harry. Harry Potter, your son.”

“Whes Lily?”

“You know where Lily is, James.”

“No... Lily said... see shed... I wan' Lily.”

Sirius's eyes welled up and he backed out of the room. It was clear to both of them that James had totally lost touch with reality, and it wasn't just the alcohol any more.

“Calm down, James,” Lupin said soothingly even though James was more morose than violent. “I'll take you somewhere that will make you all better.”

“Lily... Lily there?” 

Lupin approached his friend slowly, doing his best not to show that the smell was rancid and the idea of touching James more than a little unpleasant. Still, he had to get James to the healers. Not St. Mungo's, not considering his fame. The papers would eat something like this up, and while it might do James some good to have his shame splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet, Harry didn't deserve to share that fate. 

“You'll feel better soon, my friend,” Lupin assured him and dragged his friend outside so he could preform a side-along-appartition. The house, due to James' paranoid of the public, was warded against such magic but outside he was safe to use the magic to get them both far away to help.

Inside Sirius, understanding what his friend had done, went to find Harry. Since Harry was so young it would be best if he stayed with blood relatives. Normally he would volunteer but James was going to need all the support he could get and Sirius would never be able to forgive himself if he didn't stay by his best friend's side. He mentally apologised to Harry as he informed the young boy that he'd be going to live with his muggle relatives for a few months while his dad got... better. Dobby helped Sirius pack a few belongings for Harry and promised to take care of the house, clean it from top to bottom, in his Master's absence. 

“I'll see you soon, my boy,” Sirius promised gruffly as he hugged his godson goodbye. Harry was dry eyed but there was an air of doubt and uncertainty that hung around him and tore at Sirius' heart. 

“We'll take good care of him,” Vernon Dursley assured Sirius in an authoritative voice, laying a large sweaty hand on Harry's delicate shoulder. Petunia, his wife, stood behind her husband with a painfully tight smile and small watchful eyes, her own arms wrapped around a rotund boy about Harry's age who Sirius knew to be the cousin, Dudley. They looked like the perfect muggle family, the kind you saw on advertisements for supermarkets. Looks could be deceptive, but Sirius didn't have any other options open to him. At least he could be sure that they would not go blabbing to the nearest newspaper since muggles had no interest or knowledge in the wizarding world. Harry would be safe hear until James was fit enough to reclaim his son. Sirius left with that purpose in mind and didn't look back.

~ November 1990 ~

Harry was being punished.

He did not know what for. He had gone over and over events in his mind and could not quite decide on one act that was bad enough to deserve the resulting penalty. Harry was only certain that he had done something truly terrible to offend everyone. Everyday he woke with the hope that today would be the last of his sentence and his Uncles Remus and Sirius would turn up at the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive and tell him he could come home now.

For three hundred and eighty eight days he had the exact same hope, but every time he woke up in the cupboard under the stairs only to be treated worse than even the most abused house elves that hope became harder and harder to hold on to.

On the three hundredth and eighty ninth day a stranger arrived.

It was a woman about Aunt Petunia's age wearing expensive clothes and pure white hair with a thick streak of black running through the front of her do. She was smiling gently but her expression on the whole was cold and frigid. Harry had opened the door because Aunt Petunia was too busy watching her soap, Uncle Vernon was sat down which meant nothing short of the apocalypse or the need to relieve himself would inspire him to get up, and Dudley was... well, Dudley. 

“Good evening, Harry,” the stranger said in a quiet melodious voice.

“Good evening,” he greeted politely, unsure of what the protocol was here. No one had ever come to the door looking for him, even back when he had lived with Dad and Dobby. “Would you like to come inside?”

“Thank you, dear.”

The stranger looked anything but pleased to be entering the muggle property but she carried herself with undeniable grace and poise. Harry imagined her to be the type of woman who was instantly respected wherever she went.

“Who is that at the door, boy!” Uncle Vernon yelled out, his accent even thicker now he'd indulged in three glasses of whiskey. His Uncle wasn't as liberal with his drinking as Harry's dad had been but when he did drink Harry was wary and did his best to avoid his Uncle by staying in the cupboard. Tonight he guessed he would not be so fortunate.

“I'm sorry, madam, but I didn't catch your name?” Harry hinted.

“Madam Malfoy, you can call me Narcissa.”

Harry nodded. She was being very nice to him even though she didn't seem like someone who was nice out of nature. It led him to only one conclusion. “Are you hear to tell me my dad died?”

Shock flashed into her cold eyes before a mask of perfect politeness settled over her features once more. “No, dear, I've come to take you away from this place. For the next few weeks you will be staying at the Malfoy Manor as pre-arranged with your father many years ago. Come, I have much to tell you.”

“I should say goodbye.”

“If you feel you must.”

Harry walked into the living room, flacked by Madam Malfoy, and in a daze introduced the stranger to his cruel Uncle, indifferent Aunt and vicious cousin. Petunia looked terrified once names had been exchanged and it was clear she knew that their unexpected guest was part of Harry's world. Vernon said something angrily, something about not being allowed or maybe he was saying that he was not going to allow her to take Harry... Why he would bother was beyond Harry. Since the moment he had arrived the Dursley's had treated him like a nuisance, making him feel like he owed it to them for their 'hospitality' to do all the chores and let them abuse him in various ways. In his time here he had been hit and kicked by Dudley, denied food by Petunia for several days and been locked in the cupboard without the light by his Uncle more than once, all for offences as small as forgetting to wash his Uncle's trousers or burning the breakfast. Why on earth would they wish to keep him around if he caused so much trouble as to deserve such pain and torture?

Another question that Harry couldn't hope to puzzle out the answer to.

“Harry Potter is, by extension of his betrothal to my son Mister Draco Malfoy, part of my family and I assure you there is nothing you could say or do that would prevent me from taking Harry away from this... hovel. Now, we'll be on our way now. I'll send a House Elf to collect Harry's belongings.”

“Oh, I don't have any things, Madam Malfoy,” Harry quickly informed her, hating to think that he would cause an inconvenience by depriving her of the family House Elf for a wasted journey. 

A slight tightening of the muscles around her mouth was the only indication that the woman had heard him. “Harry, I've asked you to call me Narcissa. Please do not make me repeat myself.”

“Yes, Narcissa. Wait, did you say 'betrothed'?” Harry asked, but she had already taken his hand in hers and the world had disappeared and his body was being squashed from all sides by the forces of the void he was in before finally his feet found firm ground and his vision returned. His empty stomach churned and his gut clenched. He was sure if he had any food in him it would have been ejected painfully and embarrassingly from his body onto the pristine lawn that he now stood on.

“There, there,” Madam Malfoy said soothingly, her thin fingers rubbing circles on his aching back. “You did that very well.”

When finally he was able to breathe evenly he looked up from the ground and took note of his surroundings. He was clearly in the countryside, with forests and rolling hills all around him but what demanded his attention was the grandiose mansion in front of him, frame by large black gates and a mile long lawn speckled with peacocks and stone sculptures. Harry had never seen a house as grand as this one, even the wealth of Sirius's town house seemed to pale in comparison. 

“Come along, it isn't done to be seen dawdling outside one's home,” Naricissa announced and it sounded like she had had the same thing said to her all her life.

“Yes, Narcissa, but about the whole 'betrothed' thing?”

“Your father never told you? How remiss of him. How is James, I haven't seen or heard from him since you were a baby.”

“He's... He's staying with Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus.”

“I see,” Narcissa said sharply although Harry doubted she could ascertain the truth of the matter from that simple half truth. “Well, I'm sure he just hasn't found the words.”

“Will you tell me, please?”

“Of course, dear. It is as I told those muggle relatives of your mother; you are betrothed to my only son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Draco is the same age as yourself and in just over ten months you both will be in attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When you are fifteen years and eleven months you will be asked if you wish to cement the bond and make an engagement with Draco, one that will result in marriage once you both graduate from Hogwarts. You are not a child bride, Harry, this arrangement was made to benefit both the Potter and the Malfoy family but no one will force you to take the next step when the times comes.”

“Okay,” Harry said simply, his mind on overload but what he kept focusing on was the way she'd called him the bride. “Who made the arrangement?”

“Why, your father of course, along with myself. The decision was made not long after your mother's death, my she rest in peace.”

Harry digested that information in silence. They had reached the door of the house now and the large wooden portal opened with a simple tap of Narcissa's wand. A House Elf greeted them on the inside dressed in the traditional rags of his station. He quivered as he prostrated himself in front of the Mistress of the house but she paid him no mind as she shrugged her coat off and handed it to him before leaving the foyer, the click of her healed shoes against the marble tiles echoing. 

Narcissa led him into a lounge with a high ceiling decorated in shades of cream and gold only the ebony shelving to off set the paleness of the room. Sat sipping tea from delicate china cups were two Wizards, a man he assumed was her husband with silvery hair and icy blue eyes dressed in the finest black and silver robes, and the second a boy no older than Harry with sharp pointy features and his father's colouring. Neither smiled at his arrival, although Harry suspected they meant to be welcoming. He had the oddest feeling that if they had smiled, he would only have been terrified in response.

“Harry Potter, welcome to my home,” the older man stood and introduced himself, “I am Lucius Malfoy, and I believe you have of course already made the acquaintance of my wife Narcissa Malfoy.”

The boy followed his father's example by standing. “This is our son, Draco.”

Harry nodded politely. He was overcome with nerves. In his short life he had been surrounded by a select few people and until he'd been sent to live with the Dursley's he had never spent any long period of time away from his home, not that he remembered. He'd been born in a different house, once that was burned down to the ground, but that hardly counted as he'd only been a baby. Harry had no idea how he was meant to act or how anyone would react in response to him.

“Welcome, Harry. My home is of course your home for the duration of your visit,” Draco said slickly, and to Harry's utter astonishment a kiss was pressed to the back of his hand. Appaently everyone was taking this whole 'bride' issue to the extreme. Still, Harry was somewhat relieved that someone had made a reference to how long he would be a guest at the Malfoy Manor. He had been starting to wonder if he would ever be permitted to leave this house, but a 'visit' implied that he would only be in residence for a short while before being sent on his way. Where he would be going after this was a mystery, but he could live with that for the while.

“Thank you,” Harry said, and smiled nervously. 

“Would you like some tea? It's Earl Grey.”

Harry tried his best to hide the fact he had no idea what that meant. As far as he was concerned tea came only one type; a white perforated bag with brown tea leaves in that when added to boiling water, milk and three sugars made a calming warm drink that he enjoyed very much. Well, he had enjoyed when he'd been able to drink it in the comfort of his own home. There had not been much time for the enjoyment of anything this past year.

“No, thank you,” he figured refusing something he wasn't sure of was more polite than spitting it iut if it was loathsome.

“Then you'll accept a tour of the Manor by Draco,” Lucius declared, and this time Harry knew that there was no question for him to answer.

“We'll start in the foyer,” Draco smiled politely and Harry followed.

~ December 21st 1990 ~

Harry was in his bedroom, the one given to him by the Malfoy family upon his rescue by Narcissa last month. It had started off as a generic guest room but the magic of the Malfoy Manor had the walls transmuting into a mossy shade of green, the bedding was suddenly made of cotton and wool in beige and soft brown, furniture adjusting to fit the trunk of belongings that Dobby had brought over from his father's cottage. The items that originally had been taken for his occupation at the Dursley residence had long since been broken, torn or discarded as having possible magical origins. Finally Harry was allowed to feel like himself and not just some abhorrent unwanted freak. 

A knock interrupted his thoughts and he fell out of the bed, scrambling into a pair of dark grey slacks and a pale green tunic. It was already past nine am and one thing that was not tolerated in the Malfoy household was tardiness. Harry rushed over to the door to open it. His dad stood on the other side.

His dad.

Stood.

Smiling. 

James' brown eyes were focused and clear, his smile was forced but under the circumstances that was more genuine than any other expression he could have been wearing. He looked older than Harry remembered seeing him, but since the image he'd spent most of his time staring at the photograph of his parents taken when Lily had still been pregnant with him he guessed he shouldn't be surprised to see crows feet and laughter lines etched around his eyes and mouth. The silence was suffocating, but Harry found he was incapable of speaking.

“Hello, son.”

Harry threw himself into his dad's arms, wrapping himself up in the smell of spearmint, tobacco and burnt matches. His dad hesitated but before Harry could doubt his impulsive action he was being hugged desperately close and only the urgent need for oxygen convinced him to separate them. When he stepped back nothing warmed him more than seeing the expression of awe and sorrow on his dad's face. He knew then that James would do everything he could to make sure Harry never had to miss him again.

“Are we going home?”

“Soon. I figured we'd stay for the annual Solstice Ball and go home for Christmas Eve. Spend the holiday with just you and me and a burnt turkey.”

“Promise?”

“Unless Dobby can suddenly cook turkey without causing a fire.”

Harry grinned. Dobby was a great House Elf, always looking out for Harry in James' mental absence, keeping the house as tidy and clean as possible and making sure Harry got three meals a day but for some reason Dobby had never managed to successfully cook turkey. Dobby was such a valued member of the household that no one thought to criticize him, and it was entirely possible that Dobby now deliberately burned the meat because he surmised from their silence that it was preferred in that condition.

Downstairs they were greeted with the typical cool courteousness that Harry had come to expect from the Malfoy family, only Narcissa reacting with more warmth than previously displayed as she embraced James and kissed the air next to his cheek. She even smiled at him. James, of course, smiled warmly at all of the Malfoys. They sat down to a breakfast of assorted fruits, cereals and toast was served with tea on the side. They of course covered the basics, how everyone was keeping, their health, the weather and the market. Having exhausted all the most tedious conversation topics they were forced to actually converse about things that mattered. The future.

“How long will you be staying with us at the Manor, James? You are, of course, welcome for however long suits your purposes,” Narcissa asked diplomatically. Harry honestly couldn't tell if she was trying to hint that James should take up residence for a while or that she would be pleased to see him leave and take Harry with him as quickly as possible. One thing was sure, Harry didn't think for a second that she was indifferent to the answer.

“I thought it would be nice for our families to spent the Solstice together since we'll be seeing so much of each other in the future, if that's okay with you both?” James asked, taking a sip of his tea as he watched his host's expressions.

“Of course.”

“You'll be retuning home to Godric's Hollow in the New Year then?” Lucius clarified.

“No, for Christmas.”

“That's a lovely plan, James. Draco, don't you think so?”

Draco smiled in his mother's direction. “Lovely, I'll be sad to see Harry leave. I guess the next time we will see each other is on the train to Hogwarts?”

“Probably,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Well, it will be an advantage to already have a friend upon entering Hogwarts,” Narcissa said.

Harry wasn't sure if he could call Draco a friend. Truthfully the whole situation made him uncomfortable. He wanted to see his dad react but he wasn't too surprised to see the bland expression on James' face, his dad had to have been the one to betroth him as he was Harry's primary guardian. Magically and morally no one else could do so. He promised himself he would ask his dad about it, after Christmas though. He wanted one good day just him and his dad. 

“Is that the time? My goodness, I must be going. If I don't start getting ready for the Ball now then we'll be more than just fashionably late. Excuse me,” Narcissa bade them goodbye and disappeared out of sight leaving the three men to make their own excuses and part ways for the rest of the day.

James wanted to go with Harry but an impatient House Elf had other ideas and took him off to his own suite where he would be property attired for this evening. James promised they would talk later and Harry was left alone in his green room. It was frustrating being parted from his father but he guessed that the Malfoys put a great deal of effort into the Ball, it was all anyone had spoke of for the last week. It had been making Harry feel most uncomfortable. Narcissa had seen that he had instruction in classical dance as well as proper dinner etiquette and a breif who's-who of Witch and Wizard pureblood society. 

Pureblood. That was a word Harry had been exposed to an uncomfortable amount of times, especially considering he himself had a muggle born mother. Still, he was sure they didn't mean anything like it. It must just be a way of referring to the old money of the Wizarding world. His godfather Sirius was a pureblood and a guest tonight. From the Malfoy family tree Harry now understood that Sirius was related to the Malfoys. In fact, almost everyone tonight would be related in some way to the Malfoy and Black family.

Eventually his solitude was disturbed by a well meaning House Elf armed with a hair brush and freshly pressed dress robes. After a good forty minutes the House Elf gave up on taming his unruly locks and left with a promise that Harry would explain to Mistress Narcissa that he had tried to groom Harry. Harry was just grateful that he was allowed to dress himself and quickly switches clothes. Finally it was seven pm and he went to join the Malfoy family and his father as they welcomed the first of the guests. 

The Crabbe's, who had a son the same age as Draco and Harry, arrived first followed by a man called Dolohov and another called Yaxley, and then the Nott family, a trio of Parkinsons, Mr Goyle and his son Gregory, The Greengrass' with their two delicate looking daughters, Blaise Zabini with his extraordinarily beautiful mother and a watchful academic by the name of Horace Slughorn. There were, of course, many others but that was quiet enough names for Harry to be remembering and even then he could not recall all of their faces by the time the welcome speech was given and the music started. Sirius was predictably 'fashionably' late.

Just as Harry was about to greet his godfather, Draco appeared at his side. “May I have this dance?” The blond boy asked, straight face and hand outstretched. 

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dried out. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he guessed. Not that Draco waited for an answer. Harry vaguely heard Sirius encourage him to go off so he could speak to James and Harry allowed himself to be lead away into the centre of the dance floor.

“People are watching,” he hissed at his dance partner as Draco moved them into the start position and waited for the music to align itself appropriately. 

“Of course they are, I'm a Malfoy and you are the son of the Saviour of the Wizarding World. People will be watching us our whole lives, you'd best grow accustom to it now.”

“But I'm not interesting!” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, but you're ten and somewhat of a shut in. Once you start school you'll be forced out into the public and then everything you do, say, and think will be reported on. Harry, you were born to be famous.”

“They'll grow board when they realise how dull I am.” 

“Perhaps, but marrying into the Malfoy family isn't boring.”

Harry glared subtly at Draco as they joined in the choreographed movements. “I haven't said I will marry you yet!” 

“Don't worry, you will.”

Harry seethed inside as they spun around the ballroom. When the dance was over Draco kissed his hand again like he had when they had met and Harry heard a nearby girl gasp with what he was sure was envy. He made a quick exit and for the rest of the night tried his best to avoid being alone with any of the Malfoys which wasn't an easy feat considering they along with James and Sirius were the only ones he knew here. He tried to hover near his dad but Sirius seemed oddly protective of James and kept sending Harry away. Eventually he found a corner and waited for the party to finish. 

Unfortunately his peace was soon disturbed. 

“There he is, the Potter boy,” an arrogant young boy announced.

“Potty, more like it. Is he really our age? Looks like such a baby!” The boy's female companion commented.

The first person laughed and Harry realised he recognised him from the earlier parade of witches and wizards arriving. Blaise Zabini, and the girl was most likely Pansy Parkinson. Both of them were the same age as Harry and Draco although he wasn't sure if they knew Draco.

Harry, who had only ever encountered such rudeness from his Aunt and Uncle, was at a loss of how to react. He could hardly be rude in response as he was a guest just as much as they were, but it rankled to have to keep quiet after being subjected to so much abuse already. He hadn't done anything to them, he'd not even been the one to approach them. Why they found it necessary to seek him out to inflict offence he couldn't fathom.

“Was there something you wanted?” Harry asked, hoping they'd leave if they thought their comments were wasted on him.

“Oh look, it speaks!” Pansy cackled. 

“You're not a pureblood, everyone knows your mother was a mudblood, what are you even doing here?” Zabini asked cruelly.

Harry's hands fisted and he fought the urge to punch someone for the first time in his life. “That's a foul thing to say! Take it back!”

“I have no intention of sullying myself with a lie.”

“He's only here because of his dad. The Malfoy's want to be seen with the Potter hero,” Pansy chipped in.

“Actually, he's here because James Potter and Narcissa Malfoy cast a Betrothal spell on Draco and Harry when they were toddlers. Didn't you know?” It was one of the Greengrass girls that spoke, standing nearby. She seemed indifferent to the words being exchanged, Harry was sure she only interfered to show that she was in the know. It didn't matter though as the words had their desired affect and Zabini and Parkinson left, looking shocked and slightly worried that their words would have repercussions. 

“Thanks,” Harry breathed.

The brunette shrugged and turned back to her sister and their group of chattering purebloods. Harry was suddenly nauseous and made a mad dash to the nearby facilities to rid his stomach of food and drink ingested in the last twenty four hours.

An hour later Sirius found him sat on the floor.

“This is most unseemly, Harry.”

“You sound like one of them,” Harry spat at his godfather, not forgiving him for his obvious attempts to keep him separated from his dad all night. Not even just for the night either, it had after all been Sirius and Lupin who'd sent Harry away to live with his muggle relatives without a good explanation.

Sirius sighed heavily. “I am a Black, even if I was the rebel of the family.”

“Rebel?”

“For being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Best thing that could have happened to me, worst thing that could have happened to my family according to my dear departed mother. She disowned me. You're lucky Harry, no matter what House you find yourself in your dad would never withdraw his love and acceptance for you.”

“I'm going to be in Gryffindor.”

“I know. Do you want to talk about why you are hiding in here?”

“Do you want to talk about why I haven't heard from you since last October?” Harry snapped back, drawing his knees defensively against his chest.

“Ah,” Sirius paused. For a long time he watched Harry, and finally when Harry was about to give up on waiting for an answer and storm off he spoke. “Harry, this past year hasn't been easy for you and I realise I owe you some answers, but the truth is even adults fail sometimes. I'm not always going to be able to answer your questions. You lived through the last few years, watching your dad decline. Well, the best I can do is to tell you I had to stay with James to help him get healthy. It was for you, although I'm sure you can't understand that at the moment. Just remember that our love is stronger than the pain you are feeling now and allow yourself to be healed, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. Too much politician speak and nothing said that he hadn't already figured out. Truthfully Sirius just sounded like Narcissa when he said things like that. “I want to go home.”

Sirius nodded. “I'll tell James.”

They made their apologies and said goodbye to their hosts. Narcissa was gracious, Lucius almost cracked a smile at their leavetaking and Draco put on a good show of kissing Harry's hand again. He was starting to wonder if Draco was going to do that every time they saw each other and thought to himself how awkward a marriage it would be if that was the case. Marriage... to Draco. He was starting to accept it as some kind of inevitable future. It wasn't. Harry didn't believe in fate.

“Come along Harry, let's go home.”

Harry smiled up at his dad and the world went black as they apparated to their cottage, leaving behind all the deception and confusion of the Malfoy Manor. 

This time the experience was kinder and while the sudden plunge into darkness followed by a total body compression was still one of the worse things Harry had ever felt, he was able to stand on his own feet the other end and walk without delay out of the cold and into the cottage. He was pleased to see that the house was in good repair. Dobby must have been forewarned about their homecoming as the lights were on with decorations hanging in every window and a Christmas wreathe pinned magically to the door. Harry smiled at his dad and ran off, impatient for the first time in years to get inside.

James stayed behind with Sirius. Harry didn't pay them too much attention, already caught up in the joy of this long awaited for moment, but he did overhear James' profuse thanks. His dad couldn't have done it without Sirius, apparently, and wanted him to know how much that meant. Oddly enough, when Harry looked back from inside his house to see James walking towards him, his godfather did not have the happy but nostalgic countenance of a man who had saved his best friend from being killed by his own weakness and pain. Sirius looked like he was saying goodbye to the most important thing in his life. Harry did not have time to worry over it however, as Dobby appeared to welcome home James and advise him that the beds were freshly made, the fire was warming the house and he had thoughtfully arranged the post into categories. James winced at that last one and Harry had to laugh. Dobby's method of categorising mail was infamous in its unhelpfulness. Once he had arranged the post by colour of the envelope, and another time by how angry he believed the sender to have been using only the slant of the handwriting to judge this by. Harry looked forward to seeing what method Dobby had used this time even if James was not.

“What do you think son? Time for a drink before bed?”

Harry flinched at those words, and stilled, his excitement drained away and disappointment left an echoing dark pit inside of him. “No, no, Harry,” James said in the softest voice as he knelt down beside his son. “Hot chocolate, with cinnamon. That's all I meant. Come on, I'll make the drinks and we can talk.”

Harry allowed himself to be led over to the large material sofa nearest the fireplace and watched as his dad sent the hard working House Elf to bed with his thanks and went to make Harry's favourite drink. Moments later he appeared with two large mugs overflowing with milky hot chocolate and topped with cinnamon, whipped cream and pink and white marshmallows. Harry was passed a mug and his father settled down besides him.

Silence descended and for a long time both men sat side by side watching the flickering flames and listening only to the crack and pop of the logs as they burned away the chill. Finally James sighed and leaned back so he was facing his only child.

“I'm sorry, Harry.”

Harry startled, engrossed in the flames. “I know,” he said easily forgiving even though he was sure he did not know. He wanted everything to be okay so he'd say the words everyone wanted him to say even if deep down he didn't feel it. At this moment in time he was just grateful not to be with the Dursley's. Last Christmas had been horrendous, locked under the stairs in his so called bedroom with no light and no food for three days because Uncle Vernon's sister had been visiting. Only once a day had he been let out to use the toilet. It still hurt to remember how grateful he'd felt for that small gesture of humanity even if it had most likely only been because they didn't want Harry to spoil his sheets.

“Living with your mother's sister must have been an experience. I hope you were polite and thanked them for their kindness? It isn't everyone who would take in an unknown relative at a moments notice.”

“Yes,” Harry said simply. He did not want to talk about the Dursleys.

James sighed again. It seemed he was struggling. Whether that was because he was tired or was it a result of the years of distance between them? Only time would tell.

“I have a question. It... it's about the Malfoys.”

“Ah. Go ahead.”

“Well, Madam Malfoy said that I'm... betrothed to her son.”

“Yes. Narcissa and I wanted to bind our families together and your betrothal seemed fitting as you were both of the same age, born into a new era where war would not touch you.”

“Oh.”

“You understand it'll be your choice? This isn't an arranged marriage as much as a... strong suggestion.”

Harry shrugged. “What if I don't want to get married?”

James smiled gently and ruffled Harry's hair. “I'm sure you'll change your mind by the time you are older.”

Harry frowned and drank down the rest of his beverage. The peace of the night drifted over him and soothing him. It seemed like hours had past when his father shook him, waking him from a doze, and helped him up to his own familiar bedroom. “You'll be hear when I wake up?” He asked as his dad tucked him in.

James looked sad as his kissed Harry's forehead, right over the scar that had been left by his wife's murderer. Before he put out the lights and closed the door he turned back to his son and promised, “I'll be here always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcoholic parent  
> Parental neglect  
> Canon child abuse (aka the Dursleys)  
> Canon parental death (Lily Potter)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings necessary! This chapter borrows a lot from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone as it covers the very beginning of Harry's school life. The entire story will not be like this. Promise.

Chapter One: September 1st 1991

It was September 1st and Harry was stood in King's Cross Station staring at the ticket in his hands declaring his destination as Platform Nine and Three Quarters only to discover that there was no Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Was this one of Sirius' practical jokes that he liked to play occasionally, just to remind everyone that he too had been young once? It was a possibility but Harry doubted it as it was far more likely a magical protective spell cast so that muggles didn't ask why a large steam engine train was escorting school children to Scotland once a year. Harry just wished that his dad had mentioned that fact beforehand, or anything really. His dad really hadn't seemed interested in discussing Hogwarts with his son, only assuring Harry he would have the best seven years of his life at the school and that if he ever felt lonely at least he had Draco Malfoy, a fact which Harry found little comfort in.

James had been... healthy since his disappearance with Sirius and Remus two years ago, and their relationship was somewhat repaired even if there was still a distance that neither son nor father seemed able to bridge. Harry had hoped his dad would be up to seeing him off at the station today, but when he'd brought up the idea James had brushed him off with a generic statement on how he was sure Harry would be fine without him and elaborated that he didn't want the attention he would garner from other wizards and witches to detract from Harry's experience of starting Hogwarts. Harry had then asked Sirius if he would be there for him, but when Sirius heard that James was refusing to come he rushed to the house and insisted on staying with James. Sirius had explained that it must be hard for James, after all he had met Lily at Hogwarts and a reminder like this could start his drinking again. Best for Sirius to stay close. Harry would have asked Remus but he was seemingly unreachable at the moment. His only other option would be to Owl the Malfoy family. Putting himself in their debt now he understood what they wanted from him was something he would not invite.

This was why he stood here alone wishing he had more information and more family.

“This way! Hurry or we'll miss the train!” 

A chipper motherly voice called out and Harry turned around to see a red headed woman surrounded by numeous red headed children scurrying towards him. There were four boys of varying ages including identical twins as well as a young girl who stayed close to her mother and looked to be younger than Harry. They took no heed of the muggles surrounding them and headed straight past Harry towards the brick wall between Platforms. Then Harry saw the oldest of the boys run at the wall with his luggage and just vanish. Poof. Like magic.

“Excuse me,” Harry said timidly.

The woman, who looked kind and happy, turned to him with a polite but warm smile on her face. “Yes dear?”

“I'm trying to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I don't suppose you could tell me how?”

“Oh, yes of course! My boys are all headed to Hogwarts as well, it's Ron's first time too. Just watch the twins. Fred, George, be good and write me.”

“Yes mum!” The tall twins muttered in unison and ran at the wall together. Disappeared. Gone.

“Now Ron you show... sorry dear, I didn't catch your name?”

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“You show Harry the way and wait for him on the other side and then you both get yourself on the train before it leaves!”

“Yes, mum,” Ron said, sounding a little nervous and less than ecstatic to be running at a brick wall. 

“Well! Get going before it closes!” 

Ron and Harry looked at each other, and Harry smiled to show support. They ran at the wall and instead of crashing like a muggle would they were transported directly onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters with the trademark Hogwarts Express steaming away as parents pushed their children towards the train. 

“We made it,” Harry whispered, staring in awe at his surroundings. He was accustomed to magic so while the spells and charms of the station amazed him they were not what held his attention. He was too busy staring at all the people, children between the ages of eleven and seventeen all pulling various amounts of luggage and caged pets. Everyone was so alive with youth and energy and hope. This was the start of something wonderful.

Full of joy, Harry turned to his new friend smiling. Ron smiled back. “I'm Ron Weasley,” the boy introduced himself.

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Really?” Ron asked, his mouth falling open in a crude expression of shock.

Harry was momentarily startled himself. No one had ever reacted that way to him before at he found it unsettling. Of course, Harry had only met a few people in his life anyway and all of them knew his dad first. Even the wandmaker who had helped him chose the wand; an eleven inch holly with a Phoenix feather inside, who had been odd had only made a few odd colour comments about Harry. Nothing like this. He sincerely hoped that the rest of the students didn't act this way. 

“Sorry,” Ron blushed, the pink colour of his cheeks spreading to his ears and clashing horribly with his hair. “Just, James Potter's your dad!”

“Yes,” Harry agreed.

“Wow. I mean... Well, what's that even like?”

“He's the only dad I've got so I've not really got anything to compare it to,” Harry answered dryly.

*Yeah,” Ron breathed, still looking awed.

“Look, you seem nice and it would be really great if we were friends but you'd have to stop looking at me like that first.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Wait, friends?”

“Sure.”

“Oh. Cool.” Ron smiled and they joined the rest of the students as they boarded the train. As the vehicle drew away Ron pressed his nose against the window pane and waved at his mother and little sister who had followed them onto the platform. The girl was smiling as she ran to keep up with the train but Harry saw she had tears in her eyes. Eventually the train over took her and she stood dejected on the platform puffing away, and then she was gone. 

“How old is she?” Harry asked politely.

“Ginny's ten. She'll be with us next year. This is the first year she's been alone.”

“I don't have any siblings.”

“You're welcome to mine!” He joked, at least Harry thought he was joking. “As well as Ginny I've got five older brothers. Bill and Charlie have both left Hogwarts, but Percy's a Prefect this year and then there is the twins.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It's not! Well, I love them but sometimes I just want something for myself. Like these robes were Bill's, the wand was Charlie's and the rat, he was Percy's. Never have anything new, me.”

Harry could sympathise. While his dad probably had millions of Galleons stashed away at Gringotts, they had never lived like they were rich, like the Malfoy's did. Harry wasn't sure if it was because his dad had been a drunk, or if it was because he was hiding away from society or just because he didn't want Harry to grow up boastful. He'd never asked and he doubted he ever will. Harry explained this to Ron, and when that seemed of little comfort he described his experience in brief detail of living with his muggle relatives. They bonded as the train made it's long journey and Harry had more fun than he probably ever had had before.

Eventually they were joined by another student. Hermione was born a muggle but seemed more prepared for life as a witch than Harry himself. When the subject of Harry's identity came up she was surprised and impressed although luckily not anywhere near as awed as Ron had been. She quickly informed him of his father's amazing accomplishments, having read about them in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Harry himself had read the last two of the books, having been given them by Remus for the Christmas just past. Remus believed that Harry should be prepared considering that everyone else who went to this school would know all about his father, so should Harry. Hermione wandered off not long after to help a student called Neville with his search for a lost toad, leaving Ron and Harry to talk about Houses, brothers, and Quidditch. Harry had a great time. Still, nothing lasts forever.

The compartment door swung open and before them stood Draco, dressed immaculately in his brand new school robes with an expression of disdain on his sharp features.

“This is where you've been hiding, is it?”

With Malfoy were two boys, Harry recognised them from the Yule party but wouldn't have been able to recall their names even if his life had been at stake. Apart from the unfavourable impression left on him by Parkinson and Zabini, the whole night was a blur. The best part had been leaving, going home with his dad for the first time in what had felt like forever. 

“Hello, I didn't see you on the Platform so I found myself a friend. This is-”

“Let me guess. Red hair, freckles and second hand robes. My father told me about your family; the Weasleys,” Malfoy spat the name like it was dirty and Ron tuned red again, this time with anger. 

“I think you'd better go, Draco,” Harry said quietly. He was sure he was doing the wrong thing, but he had never been taught to be cruel or judgemental. If anything, after the life he had lived, those things were character traits he wanted desperately to avoid. He knew what it was like to have someone look down on him, and he never wanted to make anyone feel that way. Draco Malfoy would have everything he wanted in life, including perhaps even Harry himself, whereas Ron's only true belonging was the love his family so obviously had for him. No one should ever try to make him feel ashamed of that.

“You'll soon learn, Harry, that there are some Wizarding families that you don't want to be associated with. Just remember that. I'll be seeing you later.”

With an overly dramatic swish of his robes, Draco disappeared down the corridor with his minions in tow. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, it could have been ugly that. He was sure that Lucius and Narcissa would have something to say about this next time he saw them but he had months before that and he intended to keep Ron in his life for that time, and beyond. That was, if Ron wanted to be.

Sheepishly Harry turned to his new friend. “What did he mean, about your family? Not wanting to associate with the Weasleys, I mean?”

“I imagine it's a nasty reference to my family being blood traitors.”

“What?” Harry was shocked.

“You know, because we don't care about blood purity and even dare to make friends with muggle borns. Plus, we're poor.”

“That's horrid!” 

Ron shrugged. “It doesn't bother me, being thought of like that. I just think he's a prat. No offence.”

“None taken,” Harry murmured instantly. Then it clicked. “Wait, what do you mean, no offence?”

“It's just that, everyone knows you're betrothed to Draco Malfoy.”

“What? Everyone knows? I only just found out last winter!” Harry's gut clenched. He did remember one of the other children at the party mentioning the betrothal, but he'd still assumed that only close friends and family knew.

“Oh, well, I mean it happened so long ago it's probably been forgotten by most people, and obviously muggle borns don't know about it,” Ron attempted to comfort Harry. “Anyway, I'm just glad you're not like him.”

“No, I'm not,” Harry agreed, and they moved on to new topics.

They arrived at Hogwarts soon after and Hermione came in to remind them to change into their robes. The three of them joined their classmates as they were led to the castle in boats by Hagrid, the Hogwarts ground keeper who was impossibly large yet seemed incredibly kind. Finally they arrived and Harry couldn't stop staring. He imagined he looked much like Ron had when he'd been staring at Harry earlier. It was magnificent.

Professor McGonagall met them at the castle entrance and from there directed them into a large well lit hall with four long tables set out and a stage also with seating and a pulpit. They were told to wait for the Sorting Ceremony to begin. 

Soon enough names were called as each first year was sorted into houses; Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, the loyal to be sorted into Hufflepuff and the cunning into Slytherin. Hannah Abbott was the first, a girl sorted into Hufflepuff by the talking enchanted Hat, and the names were quickly called with students filing off to their new families. Everyone clapped, and many cheered. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor and Harry found himself hoping extra hard to follow in his parents footsteps. The likelyhood was high but there were always exceptions, like Sirius had been in his family.

Finally the moment came. The Hat pauses, prevaricated, suggested Slytherin. Harry saw a smile grace Draco's expression. The blond boy had already been sorted into Slytherin, something which hadn't surprised Harry at all, and he briefly wondered if the Hat knew about his betrothal and was planning on taking that into account. He seriously hoped not! Harry muttered 'not Slytherin, not Slytherin', and finally his wish was fulfilled!

“If you're sure? Better be – Gryffindor!”

Cheers went out and Harry did his best to ignore Draco's glaring eyes as he joined his new housemates. By the time the ceremony was ended Ron, Hermione and himself had all been placed in Gryffindor. People soon started harassing him, asking him about his dad, but to his surprise the Weasley twins interfered and he was allowed to eat his food in peace. Harry suspected the twins wouldn't be so kind when they got him alone at some point but for now he was grateful. For now, he was just another lucky eleven year old Wizard attending Hogwarts and looking forward to the adventure he was about to set out on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter for warnings
> 
> A quick apology as this chapter switches pov a few times and I know this irritates some people, so sorry!

December 1991

Harry, Hermione and Ron were gathered in the library because Hermione wanted them all to do their homework. Ron had dutifully brought along his books but they sat unused in a pile on the table in front of him. It was almost Christmas break and Ron didn't see why he should ruin his festive spirit. Harry was at least trying to work, as he wasn't sure how much time he would have of his own this Christmas. His father seemed to think it was important to make the rounds. This included the annual Yule Ball at the Malfoy's and New Year spent with the Dursley's. Harry was starting to think his dad wanted to minimise the amount of time he spent alone with Harry.

“How do muggles spend Christmas, anyway?” Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Much like Wizards do, Ron. We exchange gifts, gather with family and have a roast dinner – traditionally turkey but everyone has different tastes.”

“Oh. It's just you and your parents?”

“We visit my grandparents and cousins on Boxing Day,” she didn't sound excited at the thought. Harry could sympathise.

“I'll just be at the Burrow. You could visit, if you wanted to? You too, Harry. The more the merrier, mum always says.”

“Thanks, Ron, but I think I've been booked solid. I'll be spending the first half of the holiday at the Malfoy Manor then dad wants me to spend some time with my mum's relatives. Believe me, I'd much rather spend it with your family. At least they're nice!”

“Sorry,” Ron winced, having heard all about his time with his muggle relatives.

“I still cannot believe you're engaged! You're just a child,” Hermione ranted. Magical betrothals were something Hermione had not read up on before coming to Hogwarts and since discovering them after Ron revealed the truth about Harry's connection to Draco, she had been horrified and often vented her own frustrated anger on the topic. Honestly, Harry thought she was more upset about it than he was himself!

“It's a betrothal, Granger, and not something I expect someone like you to have the ability to comprehend!” Draco Malfoy appeared from behind Harry having overheard the conversation. His goons, who Harry now knew as Crabbe and Goyle (although he still couldn't figure out which one was which).

“It's so uncivilised!” Hermione spat out in disgust.

“Uncivilised. That, coming from a mudblood!”

Harry stood up and placed himself between Hermione, who had gone white in shock, and Draco who glared with all the viciousness of an eleven year old boy who's family had been insulted. Still, what he had said was unforgivable. Like most of the things he had said this term. “I think you'd better get out of here, Malfoy, now before one of the prefects hears you using such foul language.”

Draco turned his glare on Harry. “Don't think this is the end of it, Potter. My father is sure to have an opinion on your attitude this term.”

The two of them had taken to referring to each other by their last names, like drawing lines in the sand and daring each other to cross it an initiate familiarity. All term they had been at each other's throats, the only thing that had kept them from being expelled, or worse reported to their fathers, was their heads of houses. Professor McGonagal had taken up Harry's cause and Professor Snape, who was also Draco's godfather, stood firm in support of Malfoy and seemed to hate Harry for some unknown reason. It had been an interesting three months. Harry wasn't sure how they were going to hide their obvious animosity from their parents, or even if they should bother. Perhaps if his dad and the Malfoys knew how much Harry and Draco hated each other they would let them out of the betrothal.

Or not.

“Your father is welcome to his opinions,” Harry replied. “I'm not going to let anyone make this decision for me! You included.”

Draco scowled and whipped his wand out, pointing it at Harry's face. 

“Mr Malfoy! Put that away before you put someone's eye out!” Exclaimed Professor Bins, who had been browsing the nearby bookshelves.

“Just you wait until you're under my father's roof, Potter. Then we'll see who's opinions matter the most!” Draco lowered his wand and with one last glare left the library. Harry sat down, breathing heavily as he tried to let go of the anger that his betrothed inspired in him.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes unfocused. 

“Seriously, Harry, you can't marry him! He's despicable.”

“He's a Malfoy,” Ron said, agreeing with her.

Harry said nothing. He of course had no desire to marry Draco, or have anything to do with the wretched spoilt racist little sh... but he'd had the strangest feeling all term that this decision wasn't something he could just make lightly. There was something about the blind conviction his father had that made him second guess the situation every time he rejected Malfoy. Luckily, that day was long away and for now he just had to put up with the obligatory Yule Balls and school yard fights.

“Come on, let's go. We should enjoy what's left of our time together before Christmas break,” Hermione said, surprising both boys. No one argued with her though and they quickly followed her out onto the playing field where they spent the next few hours watching Hufflepuff practise Quidditch. Soon Harry was smiling and laughing, having forgotten all about the unpleasantness of his future nuptials. These were the moments to really live in.

 

The Hogwarts Express drew to a halt on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, a hoard of students escaped the train to find their parents and family members. Everywhere around Harry his peers were being embraced by mothers and welcomed by siblings. Everyone seemed to be in the Christmas mood. Harry scanned the crowd. He was disappointed, by ultimately unsurprised, to note that his dad was absent. Narcissa, however, was present, along with her most favoured House Elf trembling by her side dressed in the rags of her slavery. The Malfoys were traditionalists when it came to their servants. 

Harry paused just outside the carriage, hesitating. Suddenly Harry was being propelled forward towards Narcissa by Draco, who smiled convincingly at his mother. Harry winced and tugged at his arm but Draco's grip was firm enough to leave bruises and Harry had no desire to make a scene on the platform. “Let go of me!” 

“Not likely,” Draco muttered between clenched teeth, keeping his smile in place. “Now, look happy to see mother.”

Harry wanted nothing more than to glare at Draco, elbow him in the ribs and dash off in the opposite direction. He'd run all the way to Godric's Hollow if he thought his dad wouldn't just drag him back into the suffocating arms of the Malfoys. So he grinned, clenching his fists out of sight to keep up the pretence of delirious happiness.

“Draco! Harry. It's so good to see you. Come now, Lucius and James are waiting for us at the manor,” Narcissa was typically composed and while her expression had warmed slightly upon their arrival she was still the iciest mother Harry had ever known. 

“How have you been, Narcissa?” Harry asked, doing this best not to stumble over the name. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to using her given name so familiarly. He suspected she had originally invited him to use it in order to create the illusion of intimacy, like he was already a part of their family. Which was ironic considering how lacking in intimacy their relationships seemed to be. Still, Draco's joy at seeing his mother, while contained beneath a condescending exterior, was genuine and that made it a little harder to keep his distance from their family, especially considering they were the only real family he actually ever spent time around. Except for Aunt Petunia's family, and Harry had never been invited to feel like a part of that household.

“Very well, thank you for your concern Harry. I trust you're in good health?” She enquired politely as the House Elf loaded up their luggage. Harry would have helped, however inappropriate that might be considered, but Draco still held on tightly to his arm preventing Harry from even moving an inch away from the blond. It was all for show of course, presenting a united front to mother. Harry should probably go along with it, after all of the hard work McGonagal and Snape had put into hiding their playground disputes.

“Yes, the best,” Harry replied. He hated it when they asked about his health, like they were checking his brood mare status. Wouldn't want a sickly child bride for their darling son, now would they!

“Good.”

Back at the Manor, Harry was subjected to a slew of similar questions in regards to his health, grades, magical aptitude and finally his friends. Harry supposed he was lucky to escape a lecture on the fact that he'd had the choice between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he had chosen his father's house over the one that Malfoys and Malfoy spouses had been sorted into for generations. Criticism of Hermione and Ron was equally as unwelcome.

“Well, I've been associating myself with Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, Father.”

“Very good, Draco, just remember to set them a good example to follow,” Lucius congratulated his son. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the way Lucius automatically assumed, correctly, that Draco was the ringleader. It was telling, the way Draco had phrased it. The children at their school weren't his friends because in the mind of a Malfoy no one was equal, so they must be associates, minions, followers. “And yourself, Harry?”

“I mostly hang around with Ron and Hermione.”

“Ron? Hermione?” Lucius looked from boy to boy, needing more information than that.

Draco barely managed to hide his glee at having the opportunity to dob Harry in presented to him so neatly. “He's a Weasley, father, and she's a mudblood.”

Harry flinched.

Lucius merely raised one artfully shaped eye brow at his son. “Now, Draco, that word is hardly fit for civilised conversation. All you needed to say was that she has muggle parents.”

Harry found himself equally as surprised as Draco at the elder Malfoy's attitude. Blood purity was one of the basic foundations of the Malfoy family and Harry was sure it offended Lucius that his son's betrothed was running around with blood traitors and muggle borns. Not that that was going to stop him.

“Father, aren't you going to explain to harry how... unsuitable it is for him to be running around with... 'that' sort?” Draco asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Lucius' cold blue eyes narrowed in his son's direction.

“Draco!” His mother chastised him. “Think before you speak. Harry deserves your kindness, after all we must remember his mother was muggle born.”

Harry saw James put down his cup with a clatter onto the glass table.

“Son, follow me. Now.” 

Draco quickly acquiesced to his father's demand.

Lucius led his son out of the main drawing room, down a corridor just to the left of the kitchen that normally led to the servants quarters on the second floor however this passageway had long ago been spelled to create short-cuts to various safe houses and as such was protected against eavesdroppers of all kinds. Lucius had often taken his son or wife to this part of the house in order to correct their behaviour, as his father had taken Lucius himself back when Lucius had been a boy. 

“I don't understand, Father. You and mother loathe the Weasleys, and everyone knows how we feel about filth like muggle borns!” Draco whined.

“Precisely!” Lucius ground out. “Our reputation was made long before you were born and we have stuck by it, but circumstances have kept us from pursuing our true loyalties and traditions due to the change in public opinion. Anyone caught using words like 'mudblood' are likely to be looked upon with suspicion and distrust, Draco, and we cannot have young Harry being alienated from us just because of who he befriends. Honestly, Draco, you cannot be too surprised. Lily Evans was as dirty blooded as they came according to what your mother saw of her sister's family. Still, Harry Potter is important and our alliance with the Potters has protected us from being thrown out of polite society or worse, arrested like your Aunt Bellatrix. Keep your values close, but don't go spreading them around for the whole world to judge you. Not until we have the boy exactly where we want him!”

Draco watched his father with veneration and fear. He'd had no idea that Potter was so important to his father's goals, or the effort Lucius had put into securing their alliance. He would try harder not to upset his father's machinations. “I apologise, Father. I had no idea the significance of the situation.”

“Yes, well, we wanted to protect you from it. Now it is time to be a man, Draco.”

Draco nodded.

Once they rejoined the others, now conversing easily about the theme of this years Yule Ball, Draco immediately went to Harry. He schooled his features to look contrite, as if attempting to convince one of the non-Slytherin staff that he was sorry he'd teased one of the smaller children, took Harry's hand in his own and gazed directly into his betrothed's startlingly green eyes. 

“Harry, my Father has made me aware of my erroneous ways. I am saddened at the thought I may have hurt you with my crude and careless words these past months. I now understand where our conflict had arisen from and accept the blame. I apologise profusely and hope that one day you can forgive me for my hateful taunts.”

Draco watched as Harry weighed up the sincerity of his words. He wasn't sure that Harry believed him but a nod and smile from the dark haired boy convinced all the grown ups that everything was going according to plan with the two young boys and Draco could sit back and relax once more. He had underestimated his family's stake in this engagement, and vowed to himself to commit to making Harry his. For the honour of the Malfoy name. By any means necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racism against muggle borns  
> Childhood bullying  
> Elitist attitudes


	4. Chapter 4

1994 August

Harry was packing his trunk in his bedroom when the letter arrived, delivered by a Great Grey Owl that waited patiently for it's treat before flying away gracefully. The parchment was thick, with a black silk bow and the wax seal of House Malfoy. Harry sat down on his bed and groaned. If there was one thing guaranteed to ruin his summer it was summons from the Malfoy family. Unfortunately, he was betrothed to the heir, and wizarding traditions demanded that he honour that arrangement. No matter how many ways he tried to tell his father that he didn't want to marry Draco, his dad just didn't hear him. Every plea or rationalisation he offered up was rebuked with a 'calm “there's no need to make a decision until you are of age”. Like two more years of knowing Draco Malfoy was somehow going to erase four years of antagonism and disagreements. It wasn't to say that Harry hated every moment he had spent with Draco, only nothing in even the sweetest second of their time together lent support to the concept of a future bound to each other.

He opened the letter, skimming the content as his reluctance turned into anger. “DAD! He yelled, jumping off the bed and storming out of his room. He took the stairs two at a time as the ran down to the first floor of the house and through to his father's office. He didn't knock, it wasn't like James would be working, only pouring over his memoirs and memories. Harry was just relieved that he didn't have a drink in his hand. It may have been years since Sirius dragged his father off to get sober, but it was hard to forget, or forgive, the time that James had wasted in the bottle.

“Harry, have you forgotten all your manners?” James asked with a sigh, sounding for all the world like a wary father chastising an unruly child who he had tried so hard to drill good behaviour into. It only further incensed Harry, who had, after all, basically raised himself while suffering years of neglect. In the eyes of the Wizarding World his dad was a hero, he'd saved them all from a powerful and evil Wizard when Harry had been just a baby, but to Harry he was just a man who hadn't been there for him. Nothing heroic about it.

“I just received a letter from the Malfoys informing me that they will meet me in three days for the Quidditch World Cup.”

James smiled, suddenly enthused. “It will be a great experience, Harry, seeing the game you love played by professionals on an international scale. Nothing will ever compare.”

“Yes, I'm looking forward to it. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing in two months ago, which was when the Weasley's invited me to stay with them during the World Cup. I already agreed.”

“Well, if you had told me-”

“I didn't exactly get the chance,” Harry muttered moodily. He had never shown his anger to to father before, keeping it simmering under the surface just like all those other emotions no one wanted him to express. 

“Harry James Potter! I honestly have no idea what has gotten into you. You've been like a bear with a sore head all summer, and I think it's long past time your attitude took a turn for the better.”

“All summer? You've barely seen me! You sent me to the Dursley's for the first month, and then you went out of town for a week with Uncle Remus.. Ever since you came back you've been locked in this office, and now you've arranged to have me entertained by the Malfoys for the rest of the holidays? You're unbelievable,” Harry exploded at his father. He could only suppress things for so long, after all he was human, and his father was an easy target. He could be blamed for all the other occasions where Harry had to play nice and pretend for the sake of others. The Dursleys hated magic and thus hated him, yet still his father insisted he spend time with them and they were too afraid of James to say no. When Harry was with them he had to be as quiet as a mouse, do all their chores for them, let Dudley beat him up, allow Petunia to ignore him and his Vernon to abuse him verbally. They didn't feed him enough and made no effort to involve him in their lives. It was awful. The Malfoys, on the otherhand, made every effort to involve him in their lives but were equally uninterested in what Harry really wanted. To them everything was about presenting a calm, superior, sophisticated façade to the real world.

“Careful Harry, I'm about two seconds away from rescinding my permission for your attendance at the World Cup!” James stood up in anger, shaking his fist in Harry's direction.

“Fine! Go ahead, I'd rather be banned than have to attend with the Malfoys while all my friends get to have fun and hang out together,” Harry spat at his father. He turned and left, returning to his bedroom to pen an angry letter to his godfather. Maybe Sirius could talk some sense into James.

Sirius arrived with Lupin in tow, and predictably went to soothe James while Remus sat down with Harry to discuss the matter. Harry and Remus had become even closer than before this past year, what with Lupin taking up a position at the school as DADA teacher, and while Harry was infinitely glad that this was the case it only served to draw attention to the growing divide between Harry and the joined forced of James and Sirius. 

“You yelled at your father? Harry, that is very much unlike yourself,” Lupin commented, sounding shocked as he reacted to Harry's version of events.

“It don't know, it;s just that lately everything seems to make me angry. Moreso than normal. I thought after dad came back from his trip with Sirius that things would get better; like we'd be a normal family and everything would be forgiven.”

“Oh, my boy,” Remus sighed heavily. “Here, have some chocolate. I think it's past time we deal with the events of the past.”

Harry gobbled up the square of chocolate offered to him and instantly felt both warmer and calmer. “You'll tell me the truth?”

“Of course. I've never had the intention to lie to you, Harry. Grown ups have a tendency to... omit the full facts of situations in order to prevent children from feeling burdened by negativity. We aren't always successful in our goals.”

“It isn't like I didn't have eyes, Lupin. I lived with dad on my own for years before you got involved.” Harry had taken to calling Remus by his last name so he didn't slip up in school. There was enough tension between him and his peers what with his dad being the famous saviour of the Wizarding world, and then to top it off Harry was engaged to the infamous Malfoy family. Most people didn't know what to think of him, but he hadn't wanted to make it worse by being a teacher's pet on top of everything else.

“Yes. I've always felt guilty that we didn't intervene sooner. I guess that is why I've avoided this conversation for as long as I have,” Lupin admitted. Harry nodded and waited to hear the rest of the story. “I am sure by now you've realised that your father suffered from alcoholism which was born out of grief and untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It wasn't as obvious when you were a baby, your constant needs distracted him and Sirius was around a lot. Then, of course, your father started shutting Siruis out and I was struggling with my own difficulties, so Sirius changed tactic, backed off to allow your father his longed for space and turned his efforts to helping me stand on my own two feet. So to speak. Our visits became infrequent and your father was able to fake good behaviour when we were there, you of course were too young to understand or fully communicate the issues happening.”

Remus sighed and took a sip of tea. “Even now I want to make excuses for myself. Sirius was here more than I, but he's always been blinded by loyalty to your father and never reported back any irregularities of your care taking. Then there was that incident, when I came by to see James and found you crying at the bottom of the stairs after your father had ignored you despite your efforts. I knew then that he was an alcoholic, but I was unwilling to act. James had been my friend for such a long time, and we all knew how much he loved your mother... I'm sorry Harry, for waiting so long to get him help. Perhaps if I had acted sooner...”

“There wouldn't be such a distance between us?” Harry finished the sentence for him.

“Indeed. Your father feels guilty, you understand, for many things. He has always blamed himself for not being able to save Lily, and then to abandon you for so long? James believes your mother would be disappointed in him and feels like there is nothing he could do to repair the damage already done.”

“So he doesn't even try?” Harry said, his words loud and filled with the rage he had felt earlier. He let in a deep breath, looking down at his hands to avoid Lupin's gaze. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You don't need to apologise for your emotions, Harry, it's all perfectly natural.”

“I don't want to be angry all the time,” Harry whispered.

“You're a teenager now,” Remus reminded him, Harry's fourteenth birthday was just around the corner now. “You're going to feel a lot of emotions you don't want to.”

“I'm not sure this conversation had helped,” Harry admitted.

“No, perhaps not. Still, it needed to be said aloud. You must learn to forgive your father, Harry, just like James must learn to forgive himself. Only then will your relationship mend.”

“I'll work on that,” Harry promised, although he knew change wasn't likely to come any time soon. “He needs to work on his communication skills, though.”

“So do you. Did you think to share your summer plans with him?”

Harry shrugged and looked away in guilt. “He wasn't around.”

“It was a passive aggressive act. He should have been there for you to talk to, you are right, but equally so you could have sent him an owl to ask his permission to spend time with your friends.”

“I know. Sorry. I really do want to spend the summer with Ron and his family, though. Hermione will be there as well! I always have to spend my holidays with the Malfoys or the Dursleys. Just this once I want to be the one to choose where I spend my time, and I want it to be with people who's company I enjoy. With people who I can be myself around,” Harry added.

Lupin glanced at him warily, but nodded after a pause. “I will speak to him. I am sure there is some kind of compromise to be made.”

 

~ Three days later ~ 

 

Harry almost threw up from the nauseating effects of the Portkey – much worse than any side-along apparation he'd experienced. Draco, recovering much faster, pulled him up to a suitable poise and held him close as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. 

“I'm fine,” Harry said and pushed Draco away.

“Perhaps I just like being close to you,” Draco suggested in his perfected tone of disinterest. He was sounding more and more like Lucius each year to the point where the angry pretentious snob from first year had almost entirely disappeared. Harry didn't like to admit it but he kind of missed him.

“Or maybe you just like to play the part of loving fiancé in front of the reporters,” Harry pointed out snidely, gesturing towards the horde of journalists gathered to record the World Cup, and gather all the gossip they could of course. Harry and Draco, born of two influential families that had a history of being on opposite sides, would always be newspaper material. James warned Harry that the media attention would be more focused now they were old enough to attend functions together. Harry tried his best not to think of how things would be when... after the decision was made.

Draco smirked in response but declined to answer. 

“Come along, Potter. The House Elves have most likely finished with the tent.”

“Tent...?” Harry couldn't imagine the Malfoy family slumming it in a tent of any kind. This was something he had to see.

Draco strode confidentially through the crowd as if he was honouring the mere mortals by allowing them to part for him while Harry followed, weaving his way in and out of people and doing his best to keep up. Draco had a habit of walking as if he knew Harry would follow him, no matter how fast or how far he went.

“Draco, this isn't a tent... it's a....” Words failed him. It was huge. Almost everyone else had modest size tents like the kind seen pitched in the woods, all using bigger-on-the-inside charms so the family had enough room for their own bedrooms as well as kitchen, bathroom, communal areas... The Malfoy tent towered over all the others, and spread over a great distance. An expensive amount of land to take up. They were clearly making a statement. Like always.

Draco's eyes swept over the castle like structure dismissively. “It was bigger last World Cup.”

“Bigger? I'd get lost inside of it.”

“Well, you won't exactly be spending a lot of time inside the tent, will you, since you'll be sleeping with the Weasleys,” Draco pointed out, sounding disgusted and haughty. Harry was pleased that Draco was showing emotion, even if it was negative, because at least he could work with that.

“You're jealous that I chose them over you,” Harry said, and watched for Draco's reaction. Everyone acted like their marriage was inevitable, but Harry couldn't make his mind up until he knew the real Draco beneath the Malfoy exterior and childhood misunderstandings. At the moment he was opposed, the mere idea of marrying someone just because your father thought it up when you were one was ridiculous, he wanted to make his own decisions. Still, even though he spent a lot of time and effort into convincing his father that he had no intention of marrying Draco there was something niggling at the base of his neck that indicated he wasn't full committed to the idea of not committing. Like somewhere at the back of his mind he knew the wedding was inevitable. It only made him fight harder for free will and independence. 

Draco did not disappoint in his reaction. His cheeks flushed a delicate pink colour, his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I am not jealous of a Weasley!” He hissed, sounding like a fourteen year old boy for the first time that day.

Harry smiled. “You are, you know. Ron has my friendship, willingly and freely given. We only spend time together when our parents force us to. I never realised before that it bothered you, but it does, doesn't it.”

“I don't understand you. You'd rather sleep in a hovel than a mansion.”

“I just wanted to spend time with my friends.”

“But you spend all your term time with them, and you share a dorm with Weasley. It's I who should be complaining.”

“You want to spend more time with me?” Harry asked, surprised. He knew that Draco had long since accepted their marriage as fate and never once indicated he wasn't agreeable to the arrangement, but he'd never indicated that he actively wanted the wedding to take place. Harry had assumed he went along with the whole charade because his parents had brainwashed him into believing that Harry was his future. Now, to hear Draco, it was like Draco wanted this, like he was upset that his attempts to see more of Harry had been thwarted. Harry was stunned and slightly flattered. He'd never been in the position of having someone want his company, other than Hermione and Ron of course and that didn't count, they were his best friends. 

“You're going to be my husband, of course I want to spend more time with you,” Draco admitted. He didn't sound defensive, the way he had imagined Draco would sound. Instead it was like Draco didn't understand why Harry hadn't realised this all before. “It seems our parents had different ideas, however.”

“You weren't consulted on this trip, either, were you?” Harry said.

“My parents wouldn't let the choices of a fourteen year old sway their decision. They thought it was terribly wise of your father to suggest we sleep in separate accommodations. After all, it wouldn't do to have anyone speculate that your honour was in question.”

Harry groaned in embarrassment. “Why would it be my honour? You're the same age as me! Why wouldn't your honour be questioned!” 

Draco looked at him like he was an idiot. “There are real consequences to our actions, Harry. If we were to have intercourse our bond would be cemented, and if anyone were to walk away from the betrothal afterwards it would be a tremendous insult.”

“If I walk away, you mean?”

“Well, I'm not likely to nullify the vow our parents made,” Draco said, the idea clearly absurd to him.

“Draco,” Harry breathed in, gathering courage to open up to the boy who he had spent the last four years fighting with. “If I decide not to go through with the betrothal, it wouldn't be a rejection of you.”

Draco looked at him in surprise. “But it would be. What other reason would you choose to forsake the betrothal for?”

Harry shrugged. “Oh I don't know, free will? Commitment shy? The fact our families seem to have dramatically different values? Defying social expectations? Because I don't want to shag a guy for the rest of my life?”

“Well, that's an interesting list,” Draco said cautiously, as if he was genuinely trying to absorb an influx of new information. “I can cross one thing off of the list, though.”

“You can?”

Draco smirked. “Easily.”

Draco took a step inside the cavernous tent and Harry followed, this time motivated by curiosity. Once they were inside, and alone, Draco took Harry's hand and pulled him close so that they stood face to face with only a few centimetres separating them. “What are you doing?” Harry asked breathlessly. 

“That should be obvious. I guess you're going to need to pay extra attention to sex education when they sort us into classes this year,” Draco said, before his mouth closed the distance between them and suddenly Harry was experiencing his very first kiss. 

It wasn't a sensation worthy of swelling classical music or fireworks, but Harry found it was more pleasant than anticipated. Draco's lips were soft and firm as they ground against his own, and a velvety tongue caressed the line between Harry's closed mouth. He made a conscious decision to open up and found Draco taking advantage, making the kiss more aggressive as he forced his tongue inside Harry's mouth. Harry wasn't sure what exactly his own tongue was supposed to do so he let Draco do all the work. The kiss ended quickly after that, with a subtle cough to indicate that they were no longer alone.

Harry felt slightly dazed when he and Draco separated, but Draco managed to put himself together quickly and gave him parents an icy look of acknowledgement.

“Harry, it's good to see you,” Narcissa said, rescuing them all from an awkward silence.

Harry was blushing with embarrassment as his future mother-in-law greeted him. “You as well. Did you arrive by portkey?” He asked, avoiding looking at or speaking to Lucius who was currently glaring in his son's direction.

“Oh no,” She shuddered. “We've been staying with friends close by. Draco only went back to fetch you. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

“Oh, I wouldn't call it that.”

“Yes, portkey isn't everyone's cup of tea. Speaking of which, will you stay for one?” Narcissa enquired. 

Harry shook his head vigorously. “Uh, no, thank you. I should find Hermione and Ron so I know where I'm sleeping tonight. I'll be back tomorrow for the opening ceremony, if that's okay?”

“Perfectly,” Narcissa smiled at him.

Harry took a step away from Draco only to realise their hands had been entangled the entire time. He looked back at the other boy one last time before letting go and stumbling out into the open. Now all he had to do was find where the Weasley's had set up camp and hope his trunk was with them. Harry took a fortifying breath and went started off in the opposite direction of the stadium. Presumably the Weasleys had a much cheaper plot upon which to pitch their tent which meant it would be further from the action. It would give Harry time to process what had just happened, which could only be a good thing.

*

Back in the Malfoy tent things were still as tense. Draco stood alone facing his parents as they gave him identical looks of cold disapproval. 

“Do you want to explain,” Lucius began slowly, “exactly what we walked in on?”

“It was a kiss, father, nothing more,” Draco assured him. He knew that his father took Betrothal magic very seriously, as well he should, but Draco had been well tutored in all the nuances of the bond and knew that a mere kiss, no matter how passionate, could disrupt the careful balance of power.

“Nothing more? You, my son, are playing a dangerous game. Why on earth would you allow such an act to take place?”

“Lucius, they are teenagers now, perhaps they were swept away with hormones?” Nacissa suggested. 

Draco found his mother's idea as equally as insulting as the tone in his father's voice. “Nothing like it, I assure you I was in complete control of myself. I chose to kiss Potter because he seemed to be of the notion that a sexual relationship between two males would be an obstacle to him agreeing to become my husband.”

“He shared his concerns with you?” Narcissa said.

“He opened up more to me in the last half an hour than he has in his entire life,” Draco admitted, sounding like a cat with cream.

“Just be careful you don't expose too much of yourself in return,” Lucius warned him. “It is one thing to have the boy share his inner thoughts with you but you must always remember that it is not appropriate for you to do the same.”

“I won't forget myself, Father,” Draco assured him.

“As long as you don't. I suppose this is a good sign then?”

“He wasn't resistant. I may have swayed his mind.”

“James worries about him, I can tell. He's got a lot of Lily Evens in him,” Narcissa shared with them as she summoned a House Elf to make them tea.

“Wilful,” Lucius drawled out the word as if it was the most insulting term one could ever utter. “Not to worry, we have time on our side. Now that you have initiated contact, Draco, you must continue the seduction. No one knows yet, except for the important officials at the Ministry, but Hogwarts will be the host of the TriWizard Tournament this year and will be hosting a truly splendid ball. Ensure you are Harry's partner, Draco, and make sure that no one else approaches him. Hormones indeed,” he scoffed, and took a sip of his tea.

Draco echoed his father's gesture. He kept his face blank but inside he was worried. He would need to up the stakes this year and there was a lot of pressure on him to ensure that Harry agreed to enter into a marriage with him. Draco was starting to realise that it wasn't just for his parents sake that he wanted Harry. He wanted him for himself.


End file.
